


Magic Room

by blue3ski



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU i guess?, Corey Graves and cupcakes, Finn/Seth mini-rivalry, cracky comedic goodness, futurefic of sorts, why does it always have to be Kane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue3ski/pseuds/blue3ski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to popular demand, Roman Reigns decides to open his very own hair salon. Coming from the crazy world of WWE, though, he should have known he was in for a ride. Featuring Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose as his special projects; Adam Rose, Fandango, and Corey Graves as his hairdressers; and a few unexpected customers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted in April 2014 on Fanfiction.net. The title is taken from the song "Magic Room" by Taiwanese band 183Club (my main musical inspiration for this story. The song. Not the band).

" _If there is magic in the world, the first thing people will do is to use it to become beautiful." –Dou Ya Se (The Magicians of Love, Episode 1)_

* * *

 

"You did it! You really did it!" Seth bounced up and down from excitement as he gazed around the large salon with eager eyes.

Roman smirked and smoothed his already-perfect ponytail. "Did you think I was kidding?"

"You wouldn't share your secrets for so long," Seth pouted. "I stopped believing."

"And you'll be the first to, like I promised." Roman reached out and straightened Seth's tie. "Besides, didn't you learn anything from Hunter? If I'm going to share, I might as well profit from it. Best for business."

"This is nice and all," Dean drawled from his spot on one of the white velour couches, "but I still don't get why I have to be here." His blue eyes were sulky behind his gingery curls. "And why I have to be here in this suit."

Roman gave Dean a once-over, seemingly satisfied with his getup. "Come on, Dean. It's my big day. I want my brothers here with me."

"Yeah!" Seth flopped down onto the same couch and nudged Dean with his shoulder, widening his eyes when Dean turned to look at him.

"Fine, whatever," Dean grumbled. "But this is it, alright? I'm not coming in here again." He let out an exaggerated sneeze. "All this hair spray will kill me."

"Wouldn't force you, man," Roman assured him. But Dean didn't catch the devious glint in his eye as the three of them made their way outside for the official launch.

* * *

The cheers were deafening when Roman stepped in front of his new establishment with a large pair of scissors. Coolly, he raised a hand to acknowledge the reaction. At the fore of the crowd, Seth whooped as he pulled out his phone and pushed it into Dean's hand. "Quick, record this!"

"Why can't you do your own recording for once?" Dean whined. But force of habit took over, and as he had done for Seth countless times in various gyms, he lifted the phone and adjusted the video settings expertly.

"That's why," Seth replied. "Plus, I have to concentrate on cheering."

In front, Fandango was making his way toward Roman. He paused to flick a stray lock of hair from his eyes and to adjust his shiny blue pants. As some teenage girls at the rear squealed, he poured some smolder into his gaze. Behind him, Adam Rose tossed his shoulder-length hair, tugged at his leather vest, and waved.

"Where's Corey?" Roman hissed under his breath. "Didn't I say that all my hairdressers had to be here  _on time?_ "

Adam and Fandango looked at each other and shrugged. "Wasn't he at the Ascension's party last night?" Adam ventured.

Fandango looked at him with disdain. "Don't be ridiculous. And dude, how does the Ascension even know how to party?

"Even weird culty guys have to know, right?"

"They've probably sacrificed him." Fandango sounded appalled. "And turned him into one of the undead."

"I don't really care where he comes from," Roman interjected dryly. "Even if he's been turned into a vampire, he's coming HERE. One of you call him."

"OK OK." Just as Adam hit the call button on his phone, they heard the roar of a motorcycle. Everyone turned to stare as the bike screeched to a stop just across the salon. Corey Graves whipped off his helmet and greeted them all with a scowl. Paying the onlookers no mind, he stomped up to join his colleagues.

After shooting a glare at his employee, Roman faced the audience and cleared his throat. "I had a dream," he announced. "A dream that everyone would be able to achieve beauty." In a swift motion, he released his mane of hair, and everyone oohed and aahed. "For years, my hair has defined the standard of beauty for most people. From today onwards, you will all have the chance to maybe meet this standard." He raised the scissors triumphantly like a championship belt. "Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the Magic Room." With a flourish, he cut the ribbon to a wave of thunderous applause.

The crowd surged forward, and Seth quickly pulled Dean out of the way and to the side. The four guys in front stumbled back from the sudden onslaught. "Please!" Roman yelled. "Form a line! Everyone will get a turn!"

Seth watched, unperturbed, as everyone tried to arrange themselves amidst a great deal of squabbling and elbowing. Beside him, Dean stopped the recording and slipped the phone back into the inside pocket of Seth's jacket. "Well, guess that's my cue. See ya."

Seth's hand snapped out and caught Dean's wrist. "You can't go yet!"

"Roman said I could!"

"You have to stay until the ceremony is over!"

"It's already over!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is! He's getting mobbed!"

"Whew." Roman's deep voice interrupted their argument. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. "Whew."

Seth looked at him with wide-eyed concern. "Need a hand? See, Dean, he needs help!" He tugged on Dean's arm.

"Nah, I have the boys taking care of it." Roman inclined his head toward the salon door, where his hairdressers were panicking as they tried to avoid getting trampled. Well, Adam and Fandango, at the very least—Corey had pulled out a shaving blade and was nonchalantly twirling it, forcing everyone to keep a respectable distance from him.

Roman looked back at Dean. "Are you going?"

"Yeah," Dean yanked his wrist out of Seth's grip. "Good luck and everything, man."

Roman clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "OK…if you don't want to stay. That should leave more free food for everyone. Can't remember if I told you, but I got chicken wings. Just for you."

Dean's ears perked up. "Oh." He shuffled his feet. "I could have a few of those before I go."

"You can have as many as you want—that tray has your name on it."

Dean licked his lips. "What are we waiting for? Let's go in!"


	2. Chapter 2

_"Come into the Magic Room, and you will find that nothing is impossible." -Perfect Lover,_ 183Club

* * *

With Corey's help, Adam and Fandango had finally managed to organize the crowd into a squiggly line. As Roman led Seth and Dean past it, girls erupted into screams. Seth turned to bask in them, but Roman and Dean pushed him forward.

"Hey!"

"Stop feeding them, Seth," Roman commanded.

"But—"

"No buts. If we let you stop, you'll never leave. Move."

Seth rolled his eyes at Roman from over Roman's shoulder.

"I saw that."

"How can you even—"

" _Go in_ , Seth," Dean interrupted. "I want my chicken." Seth gave up and did as they asked.

Inside the salon, caterers had just finished putting the final touches on a giant spread of pizza, pasta, and chicken. The air was filled with a savory scent. Dean immediately released Seth's waist and made a beeline for the buffet table.

"Let him have all the chicken," Roman instructed the waiters. Dean staked out the couch he had been sitting on earlier, looking like he was planning to nest there.

"Don't mind me," he mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Roman led Seth to his best chair. "So Seth," Roman began, "how good are you at sitting still?" He ran his fingers through the blond half of Seth's hair and winced.

"Um…" Seth suddenly sounded unsure. "Pretty good?"

"Let me ask that again—how good are you at sitting still  _and_  straight?"

"That bad?" Seth squeaked.

Roman grimaced. "Let's start at three hours…"

"I don't have three hours of time to waste," a sharp female voice stated. Swallowing hard, Roman turned to the door. Stephanie McMahon was standing there, arms crossed. Behind her, Adam, Fandango, and even Corey had frozen in the middle of leading their first clients inside. Only their eyes moved, shifting back and forth between their boss and THE boss of the WWE.

"Hang on," Roman murmured to Seth. Adjusting his jacket, he stepped forward to meet her. "Thanks for gracing us with your presence, Stephanie. Of course you don't have to wait three hours—Adam and Fandango can prioritize you." He snapped his fingers.

Stephanie held up her hand. "I don't want them to do my hair. I want  _you_  to do it."

Roman looked back at Seth. "But I've promised Seth—"

"Whatever you 'promised' Seth can wait."

"What's going on?" Triple H walked through the doors and put his arm around his wife's shoulder. He smiled genially at Roman.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Seth had left his perch and come up beside Roman. It was barely there, but Roman could hear an edge in his voice.

"I'm getting my hair done." Stephanie was looking straight at Seth with a smirk. "Aren't I, Mr. Reigns?"

Roman was sweating worse than when he'd been nearly mobbed, but Seth didn't flinch. "I was here first. I've been first since 2012. Get in line."

There was a collective "Oooh!"

"Seth!" Roman hissed. Seth ignored him and stepped around him. Stephanie removed Triple H's arm and came practically nose-to-nose with Seth.

"I am the Billion Dollar QUEEN," she retorted, enunciating each word. "And what I want, I GET."

"I'm not giving you ANYTHING." Seth gave her a once-over. "You're past your prime, and no amount of treatment can make you look good."

Roman's forehead was creased now. Beside him, he heard the clank of metal—Dean had risen from his couch, tray of chicken in hand. The entire salon had gone so quiet, they could hear him still chewing.

"You little…" Stephanie hissed.

"What? What?"

"Those Internet theories are right. He's got a death wish." Adam whispered to Fandango.

Dean put a greasy hand on Seth's shoulder as if to pull him back. Roman, on the other hand, found himself staring down the bridge of a rather large nose.

Triple H's voice was menacing. "I didn't come here to deal with a circus, Roman. I DEMAND that you put things in order."

"There's only one way to settle this," Seth was saying.

"You're on," Stephanie responded.

Without warning, they whirled and ran straight at the vacant salon chair. Stephanie got to it first and started to sit down, but Seth bumped her out of the way with his rear.

"They're going to break my CHAIR!" Roman moaned.

There was a click, and the opening notes of a Backstreet Boys song broke the general silence. At the sight of Roman's narrowed gaze, Fandango slowly sidled away from the sound system.

But the music was already doing its job. With intensified vigor, Seth and Stephanie resumed their heated war for the chair. Its arm creaked, and Roman looked as though he was in actual physical pain.

"You will not disrespect me with that hideous rag you call hair!" Stephanie screeched.

"You sound worse than Vickie Guerrero, and you don't dress any better!" Seth tossed his head and flicked his bleached blond hair directly in Stephanie's face. Stephanie's eyes were practically bugging out now.

"Roman!" Triple H roared. Roman completely ignored him—he had been reduced to merely pointing at his chair with a shaking finger.

The music suddenly stopped and was replaced by the whooshing sound of a hair dryer. Everyone turned to Corey, who was holding the hair dryer in question. He seemed surprised, and his green eyes flickered around the room until they settled on Seth.

Something seemed to click in his brain, and he grinned. "Carry on."

In a flash, Stephanie shoved Seth to the floor with a triumphant grin and settled herself in the chair, smoothing her brown hair back. Seth stared up at her, mouth agape. Then he looked at Corey, who had flicked the music back on with a smirk.

"Ro!" Seth whined in desperation.

"Hey, you lost fair and square," Triple H chortled. "Are you going to challenge the rules of Musical Chairs?"

Roman and Dean (still holding onto his tray) went to help Seth up. "He's right though," Dean quipped. "The rules of Musical Chairs are sacred."

"But—Corey cheated!"

Corey had raised his eyebrow dangerously. Roman covered quickly. "You'll be next, I promise," he assured Seth hurriedly. "It won't take long."

"You better do your best," Stephanie commented from behind them. " _As long as it takes._ "

"Come on, you can stay with me." Dean hooked his free arm around Seth's waist. Defeated, Seth leaned against him.

Suddenly, the lights went out. The people in the salon screamed, and Seth grabbed Roman's arm.

Roman groaned. "I'm pretty sure I paid the utilities! Where's my accountant?"

There was a flicker of candlelight up ahead, and a raspy voice spoke.

"Roman Reigns…we're here."


	3. Chapter 3

" _Toward things that are not beautiful, I feel absolutely nothing." – Dou Ya Se, The Magicians of Love, Episode 1_

* * *

Bray Wyatt blew out his lantern and the lights turned back on.

"How does he do that?" Fandango whispered to Adam. "Does Sister Abigail work at the power plant or something?"

"Doesn't she work at the phone company?"

"The  _PHONE_  company?"

"Yeah, dude. How do you think he gets Internet over there? He lives in a swamp!"

"Maybe she has a split personality," Fandango mused. "Like, she works at the power plant during the day and the phone company at night. Like Tyler Durden."

Adam looked floored. "That's got to be it! No wonder these guys are so culty."

Corey sighed loudly.

At the door, Bray was flanked by Erick Rowan and Luke Harper, as usual. Erick cocked his head, still wearing his sheep mask. Luke grinned at Seth, who quickly hid his face behind Roman's broad back.

"What's he doing here?" Dean's blue eyes had gone icy.

"You've actually hired him as an errand boy?" Bray's eyes danced with mirth as he smiled his creepy smile at Dean. "It suits you, child."

There was a clank, and everyone's eyes widened as Dean put his precious tray of chicken down on the nearest surface.

"What did you say, huh?" Dean's expression was getting stormier and less stable by the second. Quickly, Seth stepped in front of Dean, blocking his view of the Wyatts, and began massaging his temples. "Ssh, calm down. What did we talk about before?"

"Bray Wyatt is just a hairy beach ball," Dean replied sulkily. "Who wears white pants after Labor Day."

"Right. What are you supposed to do with that?"

"Ignore," Dean answered obediently.

"Good. Give me a hug."

Dean rested his head on Seth's shoulder, but with one hand, he made a slitting motion over his throat as his eyes locked back on Bray. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Man, your hair does suck. It just stabbed me in the eye."

Meanwhile, Roman had marched over to them, his expression unfriendly. "What do you want, Wyatts?"

Bray stroked his long, frizzy beard. "I am here as a paying customer. My human vessel's facial hair is getting out of hand. I need to deal with this." He motioned to his disciples. "Theirs too."

Roman was baffled. "Does that kind of thing even matter to you?"

"It's uncomfortable, Roman Reigns. Of course it matters. Duh."

There was a cackle in the background that sounded a lot like Dean.

Roman sighed. "Fine. But Harper has to go."

Bray's eyes widened and he got up in Roman's face. "What did you say?"

Roman glared right back. "I said, Harper has to go. I have a dress code here, didn't you read the sign outside? No undershirts!"

Bray sneered. "I thought you were interesting! I thought you'd be different! But no, you're sheep just like the rest of them! Paying too much attention to the external. You're as plastic!"

Roman raised his eyebrows, but was otherwise unperturbed. "I don't want to hear it, Bray. This is my yard, and he's not coming in here unless he at least washes his shirt."

Bray looked at Luke's stained shirt and seemed to concede. "Go."

"But I just washed it a month ago!" Luke protested.

"You heard the boss. Wait outside."

"You'd think he'd offer to buy me a new shirt," Luke grumbled as he shot one last regretful glance at Seth and left.

Bray crossed his arms. "There, I've toed the line. Now what have you got for me?"

"Numbers," Roman replied, looking smug. "There's a line, and I don't want anyone else cutting in."

Bray's eyes narrowed, but a second later, his round face smoothed out. "I have a business proposition for you. Perhaps you'll reconsider my place in line."

Roman closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten.

"I know someone who will help you bring in the customers even after this initial buzz has died down. Someone beautiful. Someone benevolent. Someone powerful." Bray leaned closer. "Give your salon into the hands of Sister Abigail, Roman Reigns."

"Didn't we see the picture? I wouldn't call that beautiful," Fandango commented in a low voice.

Corey rolled his eyes. "Would you try to keep up? That was just John Cena being his sophomoric self."

"Well, no one's ever seen her! It's possible!"

Roman silenced his employees with a glare. "Thanks for the offer, but I already have my endorsers." He pointed at the couches. "Wait. In. Line. I have people to attend to. And take off that llama mask, redbeard."

Bray, Dean, and Seth countered him at the same time.

"It's a sheep!"

"It's a camel!"

"It's a lamb!"

"And you think I'm uneducated," Bray muttered, looking exasperated. But he nodded at Erick, who obediently removed the mask. The two of them moved to sit down.

Nonplussed, Roman continued, "And I don't want to see you doing any crab-walking to scare my customers, Bray, so don't get any ideas. And make sure that jumpsuit's clean, Rowan—those couches are WHITE."

Bray looked dejected. Satisfied with his handling of the situation, Roman returned to Stephanie. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her what look she wanted, he heard singing from the waiting area.

_And we can't stop_ __  
_And we won't stop_ __  
_Can't you see it's we who own the night?_ _  
_ _Can't you see it's we who 'bout that life?_

_And we can't stop_ __  
_And we won't stop_ __  
_We run things, things don't run we_ __  
_Don't take nothing from nobody_ __  
_Yeah, yeah_ _  
_ _Yeah, yeah_

_Don't break his heart, his achy breaky heart_ _  
_ _I just don't think he'll understand_

_Don't break his heart, his achy breaky heart_ __  
_I just don't think he'll understand_ _  
_ _Oh, oh, oh_

It did not take long before the rest of the waiting room was singing along.

At Roman's aghast face, Triple H chuckled. "You didn't say he couldn't sing."

"Think of it as free entertainment," Stephanie added. "Why do you think we let him do it on live TV? He's a good singer." She snapped her fingers. "Now, back to my hair."

* * *

Seth and Dean had retreated to Dean's couch with the tray. "Who are his endorsers anyway?" Dean asked.

Seth was in the process of snagging a wing and dropped it. Slightly red-faced, he stammered, "He—he hasn't said a thing to me."

"Oh." With that, Dean resumed his feast. But then, he heard the clicking sound of a phone camera. He swiveled his head to find out who it was and found Seth huddled over his phone.

"What, man?" Seth looked up.

"Nothing. I thought someone was taking pictures of us."

Seth shrugged, his attention already back on his phone. "I didn't see a thing." He began typing furiously, not looking up again.

Dean started to pick up another wing, but he heard the clicking sound again. This time, he caught Seth lowering his phone.

He narrowed his blue eyes. "Why are you taking pictures of me?"

Seth looked like a deer caught in headlights. "N—no reason." Dean didn't fail to notice that his fingers were still dancing across the screen of his phone. He lunged for Seth.

"Greasy! Your fingers are greasy!" Seth screeched as he tried to keep his phone from Dean's grasp. But he was too slow, and Dean managed to snatch it away. Dean's jaw dropped when he saw the active app. And what was being broadcasted on it.

"Did you seriously just tweet that?!"

* * *

Daniel Bryan looked slightly put-out as he walked up the street to the large salon in the distance.

"Get rid of my hair or she'll chop it off for me, she says," he muttered. "Fine."

Since their wedding day, his wife, Brie, had been hinting that it was time to get rid of his beard and trim his hair. But for Daniel, this look had become part of him. It was his success story. He couldn't just get rid of the hair. So Brie had dropped the subtlety and gone for the jugular. Afraid of what she could do with a pair of giant scissors, Daniel had finally promised that he would support his friends in the Shield and let them deal with his hair. Roman at least looked like he would know what he was doing.

He smiled and waved at the crowd in front of the salon door, who cheered. Pumped, he began jumping up and down and Yes-ing as he always did before entering the place.

Adam Rose accidentally bumped into him with an armful of pins. "Sorry, dude! I—" Adam broke off as he saw who he had hit.

Daniel did not like the grin that appeared on Adam's face. He liked Adam's next words even less. "Hey Fandango! Look who we have here…"

Fandango was at Adam's side in a flash, twirling a pair of scissors. Now both of them were wearing identical evil grins.

Daniel gulped. "HELP!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout to one of my favorite bands, Bastille, for their cover of We Can't Stop, which is the version Bray sings in this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Beauty is the most essential, and yes, the most misunderstood of qualities." –Stasi Eldredge,_   _Captivating_

* * *

Everyone jumped at the sound of Daniel's scream.

Adam and Fandango had surrounded the smaller wrestler. Fandango pinched a strand of straw-colored hair between his fingers and sighed, "It must go, It must ALL go."

"No! No! No!" Daniel squeaked.

From behind, someone grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt and dragged him over to a row of white couches, where Bray Wyatt ( _Bray Wyatt?_ ) appeared to be conducting a choir in a slow version of Miley Cyrus's We Can't Stop.

"Sit down and shut up," Corey Graves snarled.

Not wanting to argue with that tone of voice, Daniel sat down gingerly on the edge of one couch, as far from Bray as possible. "There's food over there," Corey continued. "Help yourself, Except for the chicken."

"Um…thanks." Daniel nodded gratefully at him. Deciding he could use a drink to calm down, Daniel headed over to the buffet table to get a soda.

An iPhone flew past his face. By virtue of his excellent reflexes, he managed to lean back and catch it before it could hit the floor.

"Delete it!" Dean Ambrose was yelling at Seth Rollins, who he appeared to be sitting on.

"No!" Seth retorted. "And stop wrinkling my suit!"

"That's illegal, Seth!"

"Chill out, Dean! It's not a big deal! And I can't breathe!"

"Good!"

Curious, Daniel activated the screen of the phone he was holding. He was looking at Seth's Twitter, which was currently boasting a picture of what appeared to be Dean enjoying a chicken wing. The picture was captioned with, "You know where to find him—at the Magic Room." It had been posted only a couple of minutes ago, but it had already been retweeted and favorited by no less than a hundred people.

Looking up, Daniel saw that Dean had mostly gotten off Seth's stomach, but he still had a hold of Seth's tie. Now, Daniel usually considered himself to be a nice guy, he really did. But even the nicest guys have an impish side, and right now, Daniel's was being tickled.

Stealthily, he raised the phone and snapped a shot of the scene before him. He labelled the picture with, "And you know where to find me" and posted it under Seth's account. He deactivated the app and casually sauntered over to the two Shield members.

"Hey guys, what's up?" he commented.

Dean practically flew off Seth, looking embarrassed. Daniel tried not to grin.

"Think this is yours, Seth," Daniel handed the phone back to its owner.

"Thank you!" Seth frowned at the screen. "Now look what you did, Dean—it's got fingerprints all over it!" Daniel tried to keep a poker face as Seth took out his glasses case and began furiously wiping down the iPhone's screen with a lint-free cloth.

"Then stop taking illegal pictures of me," Dean shot back, pouting, as he reclined back on the couch with a tray of chicken wings.

"Who's taking illegal pictures of you?" Daniel asked innocently.

" _Him_ ," Dean pointed a chicken bone at Seth. "And he's TWEETING them."

"Roman made me do it, alright?" Seth grumbled, tilting his phone in the light to check if it was clean. "He wants to bring in the females."

Dean blinked. "He what?"

"You have the craziest online fanbase," Seth explained patiently. "Once this gets out on Tumblr, they'll be beating the door down. Take THAT, Sister Abigail. Ro's got Brother Dean." His dark eyes gleamed.

"Ohh. Right." Daniel scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully while Dean backed up slightly.

"So why are you here today?" Seth asked Daniel.

"Brie," Daniel answered simply. "She's had enough of the beard."

"What is it about women and their dislike of facial hair?" Seth ran a hand over his stubble. "Fangirls keep telling me to shave like all the time."

"You too, huh?"

"They keep making comments about how I'm going to get inducted into the Wyatt Family if my beard gets any more out of hand. But dude, you don't win Best Facial Hair at the Slammys by SHAVING."

"Exactly!" Daniel exclaimed. He was beginning to rethink his trimming-and-shaving plan. "I'm going home, and I am telling Brie exactly that!" He started to charge for the door, but a large hand slammed onto his shoulder.

"Nice to see you, Bryan," Roman Reigns said pleasantly. "I told Corey to work on you next so you won't have to wait long."

"Uh, I was just about to—"

"Ye-eah, Brie thought you might, so she gave me a call," Roman patted Daniel's head. "I advise you to sit back down." He turned to Seth. "Stop discouraging my customers, Seth. And believe me, you don't want to grow that beard."

Seth looked chastised. "Sorry, Ro."

"I'll be done with Stephanie soon, so you'll be next." Roman started to walk away, but Dean blocked him with a chicken wing. "Not so fast, bro."

Off Roman's puzzled expression, Dean continued, "Roman, Seth's taking pictures of me in here and tweeting them." His tone was casual, but his eyes were focused like lasers. "What's up with that?"

Roman looked guilty. "Oh. Um. I need to find hair spray. Bye."

"Run, and I'll put this wing on your hair, pretty boy," Dean threatened. Immediately, Roman's hand flew to his long locks protectively.

"Come on, Dean, give me a break," Roman pleaded.

"Hey, I'm just here to eat chicken, alright?" Dean hugged the tray to his chest. "Not to be anyone's Barbie doll."

"I'm not asking you to pose," Roman explained. "Just sit there, eat, and do whatever you want. And you get free food."

"You could have at least told me," Dean sounded wounded.

"Would you even have agreed to come here if I did?"

Dean considered. "I'd be here…somewhere."

"Seth and I will keep you safe from the fangirls, I promise. This is the only thing I'm asking you to do for me. And I wouldn't be asking if I didn't need you." Roman looked pitifully at his friend.

Daniel could see Dean wavering. "Fine. But no more secrets, alright?"

"Deal." Roman quickly pulled Dean into a hug. From his vantage point, though, Daniel did not miss the devious glint in Roman's eye. But he didn't say a word—he was too curious about what Roman had in mind.

"So if Seth's using Dean to bring in the ladies, who's attracting the guys, Roman?" Daniel asked. "Because there's a lot of them too."

"Paige," Roman replied. "She's doing a promotional photoshoot now, but she's coming in after."

"At least  _she_  knew," Dean grumbled in the background.

"Mr. Reigns!" Stephanie called. "Are we doing business or having casual conversation?"

"Later." Roman hurried off. "And keep up the marketing, Seth."

* * *

Adam and Fandango stared into the waiting area.

"You call them," Adam muttered.

"No you call them!"

"I don't want to call them!"

"I don't either."

"Tell Roman to call them."

" _You_ tell him to call them."

"What is  _wrong_ with the two of you?" Corey hissed as he came up behind them. "Keep the line moving!"

"Corey, the Wyatts are next," Adam said plaintively as he unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it in his mouth, a usual nervous habit of his. "I don't want to interrupt."

Corey looked at Bray, who had moved on to a rendition of Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. "Who's working on them?"

"We are," Fandango said miserably. "Dude, please take them and let us have Bryan."

Corey looked at Erick and winced. "Hell no. Those two are all yours. Thank goodness Roman kicked Harper out or I'd have to suffer too."

"Hey guys, I couldn't help but overhear you." Daniel came up to the three of them, smiling. "Adam, Fandango, I'll make you a little deal. I'll take care of the Wyatts if you never bother me again."

To his amusement, Adam and Fandango practically knelt at his feet. "Bryan, I'm sorry for everything I've ever said about your hair," Fandango sang out as he shook Daniel's hand so hard, Daniel thought it would snap off.

"You're the swellest guy on the planet!" Adam added. "Have a lollipop!"

Corey's eyebrows were furrowed, as though he were trying to figure things out.

"We have a deal, right?" Daniel repeated.

"No problem!" both of them chorused. "Corey, you're the witness!"

Corey shrugged in silent acceptance.

"Great." Daniel took a deep breath and walked over to Bray. The patriarch of the Wyatt Family stopped singing when he saw Daniel, and the rest of the voices died down.

"If it isn't the little turncoat," Bray growled.

"Look, Bray, I'm not here to cause trouble." Daniel held up his hands. "I just came here to tell you Adam and Fandango are ready for you. And from what I'm told, they're prepared to give you the works."

"Is that so?" Bray rasped.

"Yeah. They're just waiting for you to, uh, finish your service or whatever this is."

Bray motioned for his audience to settle down and turned to Daniel. "Lead on."

Adam and Fandango were congratulating themselves on their good luck when Bray and Erick walked up to them. Both hairdressers stopped smiling.

"Daniel Bryan tells me it's our turn, and that you are prepared to provide royal treatment," Bray intoned. "We're ready."

Adam and Fandango paled. "We had a deal!" they yelled at Daniel.

Daniel grinned. "I promised to call them for you. There they are."

Adam spluttered and almost swallowed his lollipop. He turned to Corey. "Dude!"

"He's right—you had a deal." Corey looked amused. "Come on, Bryan—I'm ready for you too." The two of them walked off to a chair. As Corey got him settled in the chair, Daniel thought to himself how good it felt to be heel again.

Suddenly, there was a blast of flame outside the salon.


	5. Chapter 5

" _Self' flashes off frame and face. What do then? how meet beauty? ' Merely meet it; own, Home at heart, heaven's sweet gift; then leave, let that alone."—Gerard Manley Hopkins, To what serves Mortal Beauty?_

* * *

As quickly as the flames sprang up, they died. Roman, who had been half-poised to spear his way through the door, relaxed a fraction.

"Dean, get the door," he hissed. "See if there's any damage."

"I thought I was only gonna model." But Dean stood obediently and went anyway, maintaining a death grip on his tray. As he got closer, he felt a tingle of nervousness. Carefully, he opened the door by an inch and peeked outside.

"There's nothing," he reported.

"Open it wider," Triple H remarked sardonically. "Of course you don't see a thing."

Dean turned and glared at the WWE COO. He flung the door open so hard, it rattled and Roman squeaked. Immediately, Seth was at Dean's side, murmuring at him to calm down.

"Stop yanking on my hair!" Stephanie snapped at Roman. She turned to her husband and added in a softer tone, "And stop provoking them. If I lose a single strand of hair today, you're going to get it."

"Sorry," Roman and Triple H chorused meekly.

"There really is nothing," Seth assured them. He gestured at the street, which was pristine aside from the confetti and the inevitable bits of trash. There wasn't even a hint of the smell of smoke.

"It's the Wyatts," Adam muttered. "They're bringing ghosts in here!"

Erick glared up at him, and Adam decided it was best not to finish his thought.

"You'll have to ask Bray about that," Erick replied quite conversationally. "I hate ghosts."

"Uh…"

"And I know Bray mentioned a trim, but I'd really like to try something new with my beard. What would you recommend?"

"Uh…" Adam was still flabbergasted.

"Something wrong?"

Adam scrambled. "Erm, sorry…sir. Right." With some effort, he put himself back in stylist mode. "I have styles in mind for you. If you'll hold on for a minute, I'll get you the beard chart."

Adam hurried over to Corey as Erick examined his beard critically in the mirror. Corey was just starting to trim Daniel's hair. In the chair, Daniel looked slightly sick, and he jumped when he saw Adam's head in the mirror. Corey's scissors nearly cut a jagged line along Daniel's nape.

"Stop twitching!" Corey barked. "What, Adam?"

Adam jabbed his lollipop in Erick's direction. "He's  _talking._ "

Corey shrugged. "So?"

"Like a normal person. He's talking like a normal person. He asked me about beard styles and everything!" Adam couldn't believe the mildness of Corey's reaction.

"Then get to it." Corey poked his scissors at Adam's nose, close enough that he could feel the sharp tip. "Why are you still here?"

Shaking his head, Adam backed off and grabbed the beard chart. It was a large board of beard illustrations he and Fandango had drawn up under the watchful eyes of Roman, Dean, and Seth (this was before Corey was hired) because Roman had refused to accept the one they'd printed off the Internet. Adam was extremely proud of their artistic work on the chart, though most of it had been completed under the threat of a severe beatdown.

Once Adam was out of earshot, Corey leaned over to Daniel. "Rowan's talking like a normal person? Man, that's crazy!"

Daniel only nodded and smiled sheepishly. He was still pale as a sheet.

Adam ambled back to Erick's chair and handed him the chart. He cleared his throat. "I recommend the Van Dyke, in particular."

Erick looked at the drawing of Brad Pitt sporting that particular beard. "I do like it, but do you think it fits my face shape? I don't want to look like I've got a weak chin."

"Quite the opposite!" Adam said. "You'll look very strong. And classy to boot."

Erick's eyes flicked from the drawing to his reflection. "I'll take you at your word then."

Adam picked up his scissors and pondered where to start.

"So, how did you get hired here?" Erick asked.

Adam almost dropped his scissors. Erick making conversation? This was getting stranger and stranger. "Oh…erm…Roman looked me up because he thought my hair met his standards, and I told him I had picked up some experience working with hair from here and there. So, here I am!" He laughed nervously. "Trust me, I'm very qualified." His voice was up to a squeak by the last word.

Erick looked at him with concern. "I think someone's pranking you."

"What?"

"You sound like you inhaled helium."

Adam laughed again. A high, squeaky laugh. "Oh, everything's fine."

"You should find out who did that to you." Erick advised.

After a moment of awkward silence, Erick spoke again. "So, good opening day so far?"

"Were you always this chatty?" Adam blurted out as a chunk of beard fell to the floor.

Erick placed his hands on either arm of his chair as if to stand. Adam gulped. He really needed to learn to control his mental filter. If he lived.

"Has this been the problem all along?" Erick sounded sad. "I'm too talkative?"

"Well, it's not a  _problem_ , exactly," Adam replied quickly. "I'm just not quite used to it. You're usually so quiet. I'm sorry—it's totally me."

"It's the mask," Erick sighed. "I look and sound creepy in it, but try having a long conversation wearing it and you'll realize it's  _deadly_."

"Why'd you get the mask and not Luke Harper?" Adam had always been curious about that.

"You know the type of promos we cut—very mysterious and cult-like. Luke was always better at that than I was," Erick lowered his voice. "Between the two of us, I've always been more of a fun-loving guy."

Adam brightened. "Are we talking the party kind of fun?"

"I have always wanted to join the Exotic Express…"

"You're always welcome!" Adam exclaimed happily. "Join us anytime! I'll show you around myself! And you can play with the bunny, even though he loses all the time."

"Do I get to wear one of those costumes?" Erick asked excitedly.

Adam looked over his tall form, mentally fitting him in the bunny suit. "Yeah, you could totally be the bunny for a day if you want."

"That's a deal!" Erick extended his hand. "Pinky swear?"

* * *

Fandango stared longingly over at Adam and Erick, who were linking pinkies, as he picked up his trimming razor.

Bray was scrolling through his Twitter feed on his phone, completely oblivious as he had been for the past several minutes. As Fandango scraped away at the thick patch of hair on Bray's face. Bray tsked. Fandango paused in case Bray was having an issue with his trim. But Bray simply continued to gaze at his phone. Subtly, Fandango tried to peek at the screen. Bray's head snapped up, and his clear eyes bore into Fandango's. Quickly, Fandango dropped his gaze and concentrated on his work.

Bray chuckled. It was a low, chilling sound, especially coming from the former Husky Harris, who Fandango had once known. His hand quivered, and he looked over at Adam again, who was chattering cheerfully away with Erick Rowan. How was he doing it? Erick had spoken only one word since he showed up with Bray, and here he was, talking a mile a minute as Adam shaped his facial hair into what appeared to be a Van Dyke. Jealousy, unexpected and hot, welled up in Fandango, and he found himself attacking Bray's facial hair with increased intensity.

He had always thought of himself as the most fun, social guy around. He'd even fancied himself to be a mentor to the upstart Adam. But Adam hadn't needed any help. He was livelier. Funnier. Had a cool accent. People just flocked to him and reacted to him, while Fandango was quick to become an afterthought.

Bray looked up briefly to check the progress of his trim. He gave a curt nod. Still absorbed in his thoughts, Fandango paid him no mind.

"Angry?" Bray rasped.

"What? No. Not at all." Fandango gulped and forced a relaxed expression. He sincerely hoped Bray couldn't read emotions. Like that Jasper guy in Twilight. Not that he read Twilight. Except for that one time. And when he was feeling down. Gosh, he wanted to read  _New Moon_  now.

"Good." Bray turned his attention back to his gadget. "Rage cannot touch my beard."

Fandango applied a final dose of conditioner to Bray's trimmed beard and ran a fine-toothed comb through it to untangle the frizzy strands. "We're done," he announced.

"This is the royal treatment?" Bray sounded skeptical. "Shouldn't I get a pedicure, at least?"

Fandango practically choked on his own spit. "This is a hair salon!"

"A hot oil treatment?"

Fandango facepalmed in his head. "You got it, sir."

* * *

Outside the door of the salon, Summer Rae tossed her blond curls. Today, she was a woman on a mission.

Through the glass windows, she could see him, holding an armful of hair products and looking peeved. Perfect.

As she entered, Seth Rollins and his terrible hair was making a beeline for her target, phone in hand. "Hold still. Turn that bottle a little—I need to see those labels," he was saying. "And come on, smile! This is for the advertisements!"

"I'll make him smile," Summer announced.

The conversations in the room dropped to a soft hush. Seth gingerly slid out of the way, revealing a scared-looking Fandango. His eyes were shifting desperately from side to side.

Now the day was really looking up.


	6. Chapter 6

" _The soul's inclination to love beauty is the trap God most frequently uses in order to win it." –Simone Weil_

* * *

Fandango half-considered jumping out one of the plate-glass windows. Then he looked at Roman and was reminded of how many months of salary it would take to pay that off. He was trapped.

"Summer!" He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and knew from the accent that it was Adam. "You look stunning today!"

"Thank you." Fandango's ex-girlfriend preened. "I made sure of that. It's a special day."

"Because of our opening?" Adam said quickly and brightly. He shoved Fandango subtly, and Fandango got the hint to escape. "That's very sweet of you!" Adam continued.

"Oh, congratulations—but that's not quite what I was talking about. I was talking about us, Fandango." Fandango froze again as Summer's gaze bore into his back. "I would love to be your first customer. You'd like that too, wouldn't you?"

"Fandango." Bray drew out his name like it was a sentence all on its own. "What's taking so long?"

Fandango glanced fearfully at Bray, then at Summer. The hard place and the rock.

But then again, hard places couldn't be picked up and thrown at you.

"Right away!" He shrugged his shoulders in Bray's direction and rushed off, much to Adam's bemusement.

The door flew open again, and Roman tensed slightly as he blow-dried Stephanie's hair. If it was another interruption, he was barricading the thing.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" his female endorser called out. "The photographer wanted to get a few extra shots in."

Roman exhaled in relief. "It's fine, Paige. Take a break and enjoy the party."

As the raven-haired Englishwoman bounded toward the drinks table, Summer's eyes followed her. They were narrowed in disdain.

"Problem?" Adam offered,

"What is  _she_  doing here?" Summer asked, her teeth clenching.

"She's our model," Adam replied cheerfully, oblivious to Summer's mood. "Lovely girl, isn't she?"

" _WHAT?_ "

Adam jumped. At the sight of Summer's blazing glare, he cowered a little. "Don't shoot the messenger—Roman picked her!"

" _Her?_ " Summer spat. "Is he blind? She can't even do her makeup right!"

Adam backed up slowly, his hands held up. "Oh, do I hear Erick calling? Gotta go!" He dashed off as Summer continued to seethe.

Roman was applying the final touches of defining cream on Stephanie's half-ponytail when an irate blond Diva came charging at him. Seth half-stepped forward and backward in a weird shuffling dance—he wanted to protect Roman, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be within striking distance of this one. He'd already lost to one female today.

"Why not me?" Summer screeched.

Roman tried to be diplomatic. "Fandango is on the team. It wouldn't work."

"I would make it work with that ungrateful wretch!" She threw a withering look at the wretch in question, who was studiously focused on applying hot-oil treatment to Bray's hair as slowly as he possibly could.

"No you wouldn't," Stephanie muttered. "My cleaning and makeup crews can attest to that."

Summer ignored her. "You should be hiring based on qualifications." She tossed her curls. "In this case, beauty, talent, makeup skill, and great hair. Which I obviously have in spades."

"So does Paige," Triple H pointed out helpfully. "Why do you think she got to be the first NXT Women's Champion?"

"Yeah, what he said," Roman agreed.

"You can't honestly think she looks better than  _me,_ " Summer retorted, incredulous. "You just won't admit that  _he_  stopped you from considering me."

"Actually I did say that. I just really wasn't considering you."

"So you've just been biased all along," Summer concluded. Roman closed his eyes in exasperation. Once he finally got to close shop and go home, he was going to have a nice, long conversation with his daughter on why asking Daddy to open a salon was a very, very bad idea.

Summer felt someone tap her on the shoulder, and she turned to meet the sight of a moving white blur.

"Paige!" Roman yelled in panic, his mind flashing with images of what the place would look like if both girls got into it. He felt a sudden surge of respect for what Triple H and Stephanie had to handle on a nigh-weekly basis. "Ladies, please take it outside," he said pleadingly.

Paige just barely pulled her hand back, mere inches from Summer's face. She was breathing hard a little, and her dark eyes were blazing.

"Got a problem with me?" she snarled.

"Yeah, I do," Summer shot back fearlessly.

"What are you going to do about it? Pour dairy products on me?"

Surreptitiously, Dean and Seth immediately started gathering up the nearest bottles of hair product. Well, Dean was doing his best with a chicken wing still in one hand.

"No," Summer said slowly. "I'm going to make you prove it."

Paige's expression faltered in confusion.

Summer turned to Roman. "Doll both of us up as well as you can. Then let your customers decide which of us is the better model."

"I volunteer to judge," Stephanie announced.

"So do I," Triple H chimed in, clearly giddy at the idea.

"Good." Summer smiled cheekily at Roman, who completely missed it as he gazed forlornly at Seth. Seth was pouting and looking defeated.

"So, who's working on who?"

"I guess I'll work with Paige personally on this," Roman stated with another regretful look at Seth. He was never going to meet any of his personal goals today at this rate.

"Hold on, Summer has to get a stylist who won't intentionally sabotage her to stay in the boss's good graces," Stephanie pointed out. "Can any of your staff, aside from Fandango as the obvious exemption in this contest, promise that?"

"Corey's the best bet. He barely cares about showing up on time. He just has to finish up with Daniel."

"No. I want Fandango," Summer declared.

They all looked at her like she was crazy.

"He's the only one who can bring out the best of my beauty," Summer continued. "And he WILL do his job right."

"That's settled then," Triple H intoned. "Summer Rae and Fandango will be taking on Paige and Roman Reigns for the right to model after Bray Wyatt gets his hair hot-oiled."

"Why do you have to make it sound like a match?" Roman grumbled. "And a weird one at that."

"Because it totally is!" Triple H actually rubbed his hands together in glee. "I want to commentate. Can I?"

Stephanie was examining the finished work on her hair from different angles. "I hope you know what you're doing, Summer. Because Roman did a very good job with me." She rose regally and headed for one of the couches. Immediately, Triple H made a beeline for the drinks table and returned bearing a glass of wine for her. Summer looked slightly worried.

Before Stephanie took a sip, she sniffed the drink suspiciously.

"I poured it myself," Triple H promised.

Roman, Dean, and Seth caught each other's eye and tried not to snort.

* * *

"How come he's running a wrestling company again?" Daniel commented to Corey, who was burning the back of his neck with a razor. He was finally starting to relax again.

"I'm out of here if Roman partners with him to turn this place into a pad for America's Next Top Model: Wrestling Edition," Corey agreed, disgruntled. He brushed Daniel's shoulders off. "We're done."

Daniel peeked at his reflection, a little shocked at his appearance.

For the first time in years, his neck wasn't obscured by hair. Strands didn't hang about his face and in his eyes to be brushed away impatiently, and his head actually felt light and almost floaty from all the air he could suddenly feel around his head. He looked…he looked a lot like he did more than ten years ago. Corey had even kept a touch of facial hair—nothing like his usual growth, but just enough to still make him look intense and rugged.

"YES! YES! YES!" he cheered.

Corey looked mollified for a second before he rearranged his expression back to its usual cold hardness. "Yeah, yeah. It was about time someone did something about you."

Daniel shook Corey's hand eagerly. "Thanks, man! I put all my hair in your hands from now on. How much do I owe?"

Corey waved him off. "Brie already settled it with Roman. To make sure you went through with it."

"She'll be happy to see this." Daniel beamed at the mirror. "I can't wait to get home and surprise her."

There was another sudden burst of flame outside, which made Daniel jump for the nth time that day. This time, it was followed by the door slowly creaking open. Immediately, Roman, Dean, and Seth clustered in front of it, tense.

Luke Harper walked into the light, adjusting the lapels of a suit jacket. His hair was combed and tied into a low ponytail. His leather shoes, worn under slacks, tapped loudly against the floor in the sudden silence. Even Bray put his phone down in evident shock.

Luke fixed Roman with a smug stare. "Can I come in  _now_?"


	7. Chapter 7

_He questioned softly why I failed?_  
_"For beauty," I replied._  
_"And I for truth,–the two are one;_  
_We brethren are," he said._

_-Emily Dickinson, I Died for Beauty_

* * *

Daniel let out all his breath in a whoosh and put his face in his hands. Beside him, Corey was suddenly looking like he half-wanted to shove Daniel back in the chair. In front, Seth was slowly sidling behind Roman again, who seemed to be having trouble finding his tongue.

Dean, however, how no trouble finding his. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"'Hell' is the right answer," Luke responded. "Fresh from the dryers. With compliments from Kane."

"I knew he never returned the suit," Stephanie muttered.

"Kane again," Roman groaned. "Why does it always have to be Kane?"

"Not my fault this time," Triple H sang out.

"I guess I get VIP treatment now since I'm dressed this nicely." Luke adjusted the cuff of his borrowed coat. "Wonder how many silkworms died for this shirt."

Roman was too tired to argue. "Corey! Deal with this—I have a contest to win."

"Tough break," Daniel chirped cheerfully as he patted Corey on the shoulder and tried to keep from grinning too widely in relief. Corey glowered and growled under his breath at him as he stomped toward Luke. Fandango and Adam exchanged pleased smirks over the heads of their respective Wyatts.

As Corey passed Seth, the half-blond flashed his smuggest grin at him. Corey snapped his teeth, making Seth jump back a little.

"Seth, come with me," Roman commanded. "I need you to help me carry some products."

"OK, Ro." Without question, Seth scampered off at Roman's tail, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near where Luke was if his Samoan brother wasn't there to protect him. With a shrug, Dean returned to his couch-nest.

"Come on," Corey barked at Luke. Luke put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "I don't think I like your tone, boy."

Corey quickly double-checked to make sure that Roman was out of earshot before retorting with, "You'll take it because I am the resident badass in this room, and don't you or anyone forget it, Harper."

"Are you?" Some of the wildness began to creep into Luke's eyes again.

"Yeah, I am," Corey declared. "I'm also the best hairdresser you'll get after Roman, so if you're going to waste my time, someone else is getting your slot."

"Luke!" Bray called. Immediately, Luke's demeanor changed, and his eyes went blankly submissive. He turned to his leader, eagerly awaiting instruction.

"Listen to him," Bray continued, somehow still creepy and threatening even with a Saran-wrapped headful of glop. "This place has the most ridiculous waiting scheme."

Luke nodded obediently. "Lead the way."

Corey glanced from Luke to Bray and back. "You guys are really weird."

* * *

At the back of the salon, Roman had cornered Seth.

"I have to tell you something, Seth," Roman began.

Seth folded his arms across his chest. "Shoot."

Roman took a deep breath. "I don't think we'll ever get your hair done while the place is open."

Seth's shoulders drooped slightly, though he was clearly trying to mask his evident disappointment.

"I figured," he replied, his tone cool and detached. "With you being such a big shot and all."

"It's not like I planned this," Roman tried to explain.

"Nope. You just put everyone else you could before me. Even though I was the one who made all this happen.  _I_ made you realize that you could make money off this talent.  _I_ put the idea in JoJo's head. _I_ stuck Dean in a suit and dragged him here.  _I_ just sent out like fifty tweets today and almost got choked out for it. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing except a greasy suit that smells like chicken." Seth wrinkled his nose.

He was starting to sound heel again, and Roman scrambled to do damage control before Seth went there again and decided to break his chairs in a fit of furious malice.

"Seth. Seth. I haven't finished my sentence yet. I'm closing shop so you can get my full attention."

"Really?" Seth visibly perked up. Then he frowned. "On the first day? That's not going to be best for business."

"You're mad at me. I have to do what's best for my personal business." Roman put on a wounded, long-suffering expression.

Seth visibly weakened. "I'm not that mad…"

"You sure about that? Because you know I like to be very careful around your temper…"

Seth groaned. "No one's ever going to let me forget that." He unfolded his arms and held Roman to him in a one-armed hug. "I promised I wouldn't do it again. I swear, I can wait until you're ready to give me your undivided attention."

"So I don't have to close up early?"

Seth sighed. "Not on my account."

"Oh good." Roman's tone turned businesslike. "Now to the other reason why I called you in here. You know Dean's not just here for show, right?"

Seth's eyes widened a fraction. "I thought we weren't keeping secrets from him anymore."

"You know Dean can be bad at knowing what's good for him. We're doing this for his benefit."

Seth fidgeted. "Is it about his hairline?"

"You catch on quick." Roman looked satisfied. "It's killing me, Seth. I need to do something. By any means necessary."

Seth was silent for a while. "I can't do that…can I?"

"Yes, you can. Help a brother out, You don't want us to fight again, do you?"

"Always taking one for the team." Seth closed in eyes in surrender. "You got it."

Roman shoved an armful of cosmetics at him. "I knew you'd have my back. In a non-chairshot kind of way."

* * *

As Seth and Roman made their way out of the back room with piles of beauty products in hand, Dean wiped his hands on a napkin, extremely proud of his latest handiwork—the empty pan that used to contain wings. He stretched, feeling all warm and drowsy. It was a good time to go home and nap since Roman and his customers probably wouldn't appreciate his snoring in the salon. Even if the couch was really soft.

He stood and went over to where Roman was ushering Paige into his best chair. "I'm going."

Something flickered in Roman's eyes. "But the contest hasn't even started yet. I need you to support me."

"I've finished the wings. I wanna take a nap."

Roman peeked around him and did a double-take at the empty pan. Dean beamed at him.

The Samoan chuckled and jabbed at Dean's stomach with a comb, shaking his head. "Why did I have to get the fat genes?"

"You got the hair genes." Dean reached for Roman's hair playfully, but his best friend batted his hand away. "Guess I'll see you when Seth drags me back again."

"Have you drunk anything since you started on those wings? I don't want you developing a cough from all that fried food."

"I'll drink something before I go," Dean assured him.

"I'll get Seth to get you one. Oh, here he is."

"Nice going on those wings," Seth said approvingly as he handed Dean a glass of soda. "You really wiped them out. Too bad I didn't get a picture."

"You got enough pictures," Dean shot back as he took a swig. As he lowered his glass, he noticed that both Roman and Seth seemed to be looking at him very intently, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No," both of them chorused.

Roman cleared his throat. "I better get back to Paige and win this thing. Sorry to see you go, Dean."

Dean yawned. "Yeah, too bad. Don't wanna scare your customers away, though."

Something like guilt flashed across Roman's face. But it was probably just the sleepiness.

Roman's comb clattered to the floor. "Whoops!" he exclaimed. "Pick that up for me, will you?"

Dean bent down, and as his fingers closed around the wooden hair tool, he heard quick footsteps and felt a sense of vague familiarity, as though his body already knew what was coming before his mind did.

"SETH!"

Then oblivion.


	8. Chapter 8

_"Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man."-Fyodor Dostoevsky_

* * *

When Dean opened his eyes again, he had to squint as he tried to adjust to the dimness. He sneezed as the smell of chemicals wafted past his nose, and he tried to rub at it before he realized that he couldn't move his arms.

Something in front of him moved silently, and he could feel a soft cloth on his face. As the shadow leaned forward, he could make out glittering eyes he didn't recognize. Until it finally clicked.

"You scumbag!"

There was a click, and light flooded the room, causing Dean to shut his eyes again as spots danced before them.

"Sorry, Dean," came Seth's sheepish voice.

Dean growled as he struggled to free himself from the ropes he could now see binding him.

"You're not getting out," Seth continued, all patient and conversational. "Not until Ro's done with you."

At the mention of that name, Dean hissed and spit like a cat. Seth quickly held his hands up and jumped backward. Dean noticed that he'd lost the coat and that the sleeves of his button-down shirt were rolled up haphazardly. There were bottles of hair care products at his feet too.

"Where am I?" Dean snapped.

"Just the back room." Seth was unrolling his sleeves again and smoothing them out.

"Couldn't let the public see what lowlifes you two are, huh? Had to hide me in here, huh?"

"We would have tied you up outside, but we figured it would look bad once you woke up and became a raving lunatic." Seth shrugged his coat on and began smoothing his hair back into a ponytail. "We'll come back for you after closing time—the contest should be starting soon. I'll send Ro your regards."

"I'll get you two for this!" Dean screeched as Seth smirked at him and slipped out the door. "I'll haunt you! Just wait!"

* * *

Fandango winced as the timer on the hair steamer went off with a ding. Slowly, he put down his magazine and rose gingerly from his chair. He lifted the lid from Bray's head, blinking as a column of steam rushed into his eyes and momentarily blinded him.

He could feel Roman's wolf eyes boring into his back as he unwrapped Bray's hair. His boss had retired to the couches with the others to socialize while they waited for Fandango to finish. Those eyes seemed to follow him as he led Bray to the shampooing area. Someone asked Roman a question Fandango couldn't hear, and he sighed in relief as those eyes were redirected. As he pondered their collection of shampoos, he couldn't suppress the involuntary evil grin that crossed his face as he selected the sweetest-smelling shampoo they had. The idea of sending Bray back to his swamp with rose-scented hair and beard was just so appealing, and it would make his day so much better.

Bray's nose twitched as the scent of the shampoo filled the air. But he didn't say a word to Fandango until after his hair and beard had been semi-dried and wrapped in towels.

"Organic shampoo?" he asked as Fandango led him back to his chair.

"Uh, yeah." Roman was on a total natural kick and wouldn't allow anything else. He had even developed the shampoos and conditioners personally.

Bray hmm'ed. "This establishment may be worthy of my regular patronage."

Fandango wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that or not as he blow-dried Bray's hair into a tangle-free, volumized, and shiny sheet down the back of his patterned shirt. The moment he turned the blow-dryer off, the others began to stir. His palms began to sweat as he worked a cream into Bray's hair and beard as a finishing touch.

"Good job," Roman pronounced, making Fandango jump as he came up beside him.

"Is the procedure complete?" Bray inquired. Roman raised his eyebrow at his employee, and Fandango cleared his throat as he removed the hairdressing cape from around the Wyatt patriarch's shoulders. "Yes. We're done."

"Take a break," Roman instructed. "By the way, Bray, don't sing when we're competing later. I've already invited actual musical accompaniment, and I don't want you to cramp his style."

Bray scowled. "And who is this?"

"None of your business," Roman turned and started to walk back to the couches. "We'll start when you're ready, Fandango."

Fandango stopped his boss. "I can start now," he muttered, softly enough so that no one else heard.

Roman grinned. "I want to even the playing field. Take all the time you need—we're supposed to be celebrating the launch anyway."

Fandango felt like he was missing something as Roman resumed mingling. The back door squeaked open, and Seth stepped out, smoothing his ponytail. He flashed a thumbs-up at Roman, who nodded with approval. Clearly, the Shield's architect had managed to subdue their lunatic. Fandango's nerves went nuts again, and he hurried to calm them down with some food. Pizza sounded—and smelled—really good right about now.

As he loaded up a plate, he saw Adam throwing up his hands in his usual exuberant manner as he announced, "All done!" It was followed by a growl from Corey. Erick Rowan shook Adam's hand, and they exchanged some more words before Erick returned to Bray's side, admiring his new beard.

Adam joined Fandango and filled a plate of his own. "I was right about the Van Dyke." He pointed to Erick with the pointed end of a slice of pizza.

"Nice going," Fandango agreed. The red-haired Wyatt did look pretty savvy. "Made a friend?"

"Don't be a jealous lemon, Johnny!" Adam replied cheerfully. "He's going to be a regular on the Exotic Express now, but you're still my best mate!"

"I'm not a lemon!" Fandango huffed. "And I wasn't jealous!" He did feel a lot better. Not that he would admit it.

"So you're going up against Roman," Adam commented, changing the subject. "How does that feel?"

Fandango glanced around him to make sure that everyone else was safely out of earshot before lowering his voice and replying, "I'm not planning to let her win."

Adam's eyes widened. "You're going to lose?"

"I don't want to work with her, dude. I doubt you do either."

"You're putting your reputation on the line, though." Adam whistled.

"It's against Roman," Fandango pointed out. "Wouldn't be a surprise to anyone if I lost to him. He's the boss for a reason."

Adam's mouth twisted, but he didn't say more. They ate in silence and watched as Corey held a shaving blade to Luke's throat.

"You know he totally wishes he could just pull a lever or something and send Harper into an underground room," Adam quipped. "Like Sweeney Todd."

"I'm not cleaning up any dead bodies he puts there, I'm just saying," Fandango deadpanned as he swallowed the last of a doughnut and turned back to the food table, pondering a second pizza slice.

"Incoming," Adam hissed warningly. Fandango cleared his throat of doughnut holes and took a deep breath as he faced Summer.

"Thinking about how to make me look good?" she asked sweetly.

"Umm…"

Her voice hardened. "Because I have no intention of losing this contest, and if I do because of you, you will never get rid of me. Ever."

Fandango gulped.

"But if I beat Paige," she continued, "it might be a good enough consolation prize, and I'll let you go."

"You'll really let me go?" he blurted out.

She sighed. "Yes. Just let us have this last win as partners."

Fandango glanced over at Adam, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"OK. You got a deal. We're going to win."

* * *

"The next match is scheduled for one judging panel, and it is for the right to be the female model for Magic Room," Triple H announced. "Introducing first, being accompanied by Paige, the owner of Magic Room, Roman Reigns! And the challenger, being accompanied by stylist Fandango, Summer Rae!"

"Is this necessary?" both Fandango and Roman complained.

"I want this to be a spectacle, boys," the WWE COO replied. "If I had my way, you'd be coming out to pyro and Motorhead. Maybe a throne."

"This isn't wrestling!"

"My wife and I are the judges," Triple H retorted smugly. "Any complaints?"

Point taken, the two of them shut up and took their places before a loud knock on the door interrupted.

"Do I have to break the walls down to get in here?" a very familiar male voice yelled.

Roman cleared his throat. "Excuse me, the musical accompaniment is here." Immediately, Bray sat up.

As Roman opened the door, Chris Jericho swaggered through, his black jacket blinking with little white lights. He was carrying nothing but a CD.

"This is he?" Bray's voice dripped with disdain.

"Now, I usually don't take sudden engagements like this," Chris explained. "But I'm back to save the waiting room from you, Bray Wyatt!"

Bray's expression was positively poisonous, and Roman stepped in between them quickly. "Thanks for coming, Chris. You're just in time-the contest is about to start."

Chris glared at Bray for another second before stepping back and addressing Roman. "Is the mic ready? I've got the minus one."

"Yeah, everything's set up."

Chris headed over to the sound system and inserted his CD as Roman returned to his chair. Fandango picked up his comb, and Roman did the same. They looked at each other over the tops of the heads of their models. Roman smirked, and Fandango swallowed hard.

A guitar began to wail.

"Take your seats!" Chris screamed into his mic. "Because it's time to FIGHT!"


	9. Chapter 9

_"When darkness sets in, true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within." Elisabeth Kubler-Ross_

* * *

" _In our ring of love this much is true_ ," Chris was growling into the mic. " _Never thought that I'd be fighting you…_ "

Roman was already combing through Paige's long, straight black hair. Fandango mimicked him, but he could feel his fingertips twitching. For sure, he wasn't handling scissors this time or he'd end up accidentally scalping Summer at this rate.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him.

"And Roman starts things off in this matchup. What's he gonna do—is that an ponytail? Nope, he's going to keep us guessing. His opponent's looking a little out of his depth—looks like Fandango's just bitten off a lot more than he can chew today," Triple H began, "This may be the easiest win in Roman's career."

Out of the corner of Fandango's eye, he could see Roman barely smothering a satisfied grin as Seth handed him his iPad and he showed Paige something on it. Clearly, he already had something in mind while Fandango was still trying to get himself together. Under the pretense of picking out makeup, Fandango hurried over to the cosmetics corner. He needed a breather from Triple H's commentary, which wasn't helping his case.

As he was pondering the shelf of eyeshadows, something cold and distinctly sharp jabbed his shoulder. He turned slowly and met flashing green eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Corey hissed as he pointed his shaving blade at Fandango's face.

"What are  _you_ doing?" Fandango yelped back. "Get that thing out of my face!"

"Oh." Corey lowered the blade. "Get out there and do your job, dude. Or you can just hand in your resignation right now and salsa your way into the sunset or whatever it is you dancers do."

"Don't stop him," Roman remarked as he sauntered up. "If he wants to hand me an easy win, I'm not gonna say no to that. Besides, Adam tells me Rowan's got a good sense of style—we could always put him up front while Johnny here washes hair or something."

Something hot blazed up inside Fandango, and his hand curled into a fist. It certainly wasn't shaking anymore as he looked his employer straight in the eye. "I will give you a run for your money like you know I can."

Roman didn't flinch, but his eyes hardened. "Oh, will you?"

" _The gloves are off! You've hit below the belt!_ "

"And the action's spilled over to the outside," Triple H announced. "The big guy's doing some trashtalking, and it looks like that's put a little life into his opponent—great, or this would be such a waste of our time. Graves, you're not supposed to be interfering—get yourself and your knife out of the way before I have you arrested."

Corey slunk away, clearly pleased with himself. Fandango turned back to the shelf of makeup, his mind alive and whirring. Summer had been right before—he did understand her the best. He could make her a winner.

He reached for a shimmery pink-gold eyeshadow set, only for Roman to push his hand out of the way. Perturbed, he smacked Roman's hand back in retaliation.

"And Fandango goes after Roman!" Triple H called excitedly. "That's a hard slap, and this is getting personal!" He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and pretended to wipe his forehead.

"Out of my way," Roman snapped.

"Fat chance! You wanted a competition, you got it!"

"Did you just say the word fat to me?"

"Ro, let me know if he needs a chairshot," Seth called.

While Roman was distracted by that, Fandango grabbed the container. "I win!"

Roman responded by knocking him back with his elbow. "I dare you to beat me to the eyeliner!"

"Challenge accepted!"

* * *

"And Roman breaks out the curlers! And I'm not sure what he's doing, but I don' t see a lot of dark makeup over here—is he trying to prove that our resident goth isn't just a one-look pony?" Triple H stopped and chuckled to himself. "Heh. Pony."

"Focus," Stephanie commanded.

"Right, sorry. And Fandango's got the straightening iron out—he might be going for the opposite idea. He's got the scissors out too, and he's trimming away at those split ends with perfect precision. He seems to be going for a more classic style—is that a good idea with the visibly older Summer Rae?" Off a glare from his wife, the WWE COO quickly backtracked. "Not that it's not going to look great, because women, like my wife, own that kind of look…Anyway, Paige is getting some nice, big corkscrew curls—boy, does she look YOUNG. I'm getting a real Snow White vibe. Is that BLUSH? Is she actually going to wear BLUSH? Ohhh, Roman is really pulling out the stops here today! Summer Rae's not looking to happy with that development—she's deep in conversation with Fandango now—what they can be planning?"

He stopped to take a swallow of water (none of that Mountain Dew for him—it was dehydrating). "And Fandango's back at work! I see braids—he's not thinking of giving her dreadlocks, is he?" He's twisting the hair up—an updo, I see. That does look great. Back to Roman now—he's applied the blush, and man, he looks confident. He should, because he's got the talent and the chutzpah to put this match away. Takes after me that way. Summer is looking timeless, though—I'd put her in a commercial for Omega. But Paige looks very bright and young—Roman really emphasizing her advantage there. Aaaand, he's finished! Fandango has to be feeling the pressure now—wait, no, he's just even more focused than before. Look at that intensity in his face. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the guy who beat Chris Jericho in at his debut Wrestlemania!"

" _Fight for your life, yeaaa—WHAT?_ " Chris stopped singing and levelled a death glare at the commentator. "That's funny, coming from the one who barely lasted, what, five seconds, at Wrestlemania XII?"

"Shut up, both of you," Stephanie snapped. "I'm trying to watch here."

"But how can I commentate?" Triple H protested meekly.

"Fine,  _you_ talk about the match and  _he_ can keep singing."

Bray, who had stood up halfway, sat back down, disappointed.

"Fandango's done!" Triple H announced as the former dancer spritzed Summer's hair with hair spray one last time and threw his hands up. "Bring them up here, guys—it's time for us to deliberate."

Roman scrutinized Fandango's work on Summer for the first time, and he felt a coil of worry twist in his stomach. She did look fantastic—he had to admit that he would hire her. She looked high-class and cosmopolitan, and she would undoubtedly bring in the rich older ladies. And he was impressed that Fandango had pulled this off, despite his employee's nerves at the start of the contest.

"You're going to win," Seth assured him quietly as both stylists stepped back to let Triple H and Stephanie get a good look at their models.

"You got this," Adam said to Fandango at the same time. He and Seth narrowed their eyes at each other.

"Lollipop kid."

"Suit boy."

Roman pulled Seth out of the earshot of Fandango and Adam. "I don't know. She looks really good." Hi eyes clouded slightly. "He might be better than me."

"Ro, you're the top guy," Seth said firmly. "You had what it took to build this business, and what it takes to stay there. I'm confident in the future of this team here—those guys as your stylists, me as your marketing guy, and Dean as your model. And later, you're going to make the two of us look so good, no one will ever doubt that you're the best."

"We've reached a decision," Stephanie announced just then as Chris wrapped up his final number. "Chris, give me that mic."

"Who're you betting on?" Bray asked the closest person to his left, who just happened to be Daniel. After bringing his heart rate back down to normal, Daniel scratched his newly trimmed beard. "Hypothetically—and by hypothetically, I mean my soul's not on the line or something—I gotta go with Paige. I mean, what a transformation! She's all cute and girly! You?"

"Summer's true beauty has been unleashed, and it is truly enough to make one weep." Bray commented. "Rowan?"

"You—you're asking for my opinion?"

"Don't sound so shocked," Bray grumbled. "You're more knowledgeable than I am on such matters."

Erick ran a hand over his bald head. "Well, from I can see, they both look terrific—that is some top-notch work right there. But Summer is just glowing and confident, and that has got to give her an advantage. I'm not saying that just because I got promised a seat on the Exotic Express."

Over at one of the dressing tables, Luke held up a hundred-dollar bill. "We're on?"

Corey grinned and slapped his money onto the surface. "Oh yeah. May the best girl win."

"So, both stylists certainly proved their worth to both of us tonight, and my husband Triple H and I would be very glad to support this place," Stephanie began.

Seth beamed at Roman, who blushed and looked mollified. Then he sighed deeply.

"Seth, we're going to let Dean out."

"What? I thought we were keeping him there until closing time."

"This is a big moment for me. He can't not be here."

"We might need to sedate him first," Seth sounded tense. "He was screaming something about haunting me again, and you know how that freaks me out."

"We'll bring him out together. Even if he tries to bite us."

"Steph, let's hold up for a sec—have you guys considered getting a muzzle?" Triple H interjected.

"We tried," Seth responded. "We couldn't breathe in those masks."

Roman had walked over to the back room. "Seth." As Seth joined him, he turned the doorknob slowly.

There was a guttural scream that made everyone wince.

"Here we go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jericho sings in this chapter is Fight by No Vacancy, taken from the School of Rock soundtrack.
> 
> Seth is champ!!!!! *runs around whooping*


	10. Chapter 10

_"Even in chaos and madness, there's still a beauty that comes from just the vibrancy of another human spirit." -Ishmael Beah_

* * *

Seth quickly shut the door behind him to block out the sound of Dean's cat-like yowling and flicked the light switch to on. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that Dean had been in there without light for quite a while—as a result, his wails grew even louder.

Roman was at Dean's side in an instant, patting Dean's head gently to try and calm him down. Dean continued to thrash in his bindings for a few more minutes, then he finally relaxed, leaning against Roman's waist. Seth undid the ropes keeping him captive slowly, still wary of sudden attacks. He, of all people, was too aware of how slippery a vengeful Dean could be.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Roman was murmuring into the top of Dean's head.

"You did it again," Dean whined. "You promised you wouldn't."

"I know. I got too caught up in myself again."

"Hmph."

Seth tried not to feel too jealous again as he watched the exchange. Roman and Dean needed their moment, and he was going to let them have it. He pretended to busy himself reading the labels on bottles until Dean called his name in his wounded, little-boy voice. He practically tripped over his own feet reaching them, settling into a squat on Dean's other side.

"You didn't have to stomp so hard."

"Sorry about that. Force of habit, you know…"

Dean swatted at his head, and Seth ducked quickly. They both started laughing, which made Roman laugh too. Once they'd all managed to develop new sets of abs from that, Dean narrowed his eyes at Roman, his focus renewed. "So what was that all about?"

Roman swallowed. "Uhhh…"

"I'm not helping you, I'm trying to get back on his good side," Seth interjected.

"You have that face again!" Dean cried, pointing at Roman.

"It's really killing me, Dean…"

"No! My hair is fine. Thin, but fine!" He paused. "Wait, did that sound right?"

"It's too fine! I don't want to you to walk around bald before you're  _fifty_."

"I'm close enough to it, so shut up." Dean patted the bangs hanging over his eyes protectively.

"You just have to sit in the chair and let me work my magic. That's all."

"While all those people out there gawk at me? I told you when you decided to open this joint and I'm telling you again now: I'm not here for this, Ro."

Roman heaved a defeated sigh. "OK. I won't push it. Just…come back with us. Without trying to bite anyone."

"What?" Seth yelped. "After you made me stomp him and hog-tie him?"

"It's his head. He should be free to refuse."

"That's the last time I 'take one for the team'," Seth grumbled.

"You said that last time," Dean commented off-handedly. He stood up and stretched, bones cracking audibly as they returned to their normal positions. "OK, let's go."

Roman gave him a critical once-over. "We need to fix you up first."

Dean looked down at his clothes, which were wrinkled and untucked in places from all his struggling. Roman straightened his shirt, fussing like the mother hen he had always been. Seth recovered Dean's suit jacket from the floor and brushed the dust off it carefully before slipping it over his shoulders.

Dean ruffled his hair in self-consciousness to fluff it up and make it look thicker.

"It's a losing battle, Dean."

* * *

"It should be me."

"No, me."

"Like you two have a chance. It's obviously me."

"Fat chance. You were late on the first day!"

"Well, it's not going to be me cleaning up the blood and guts in there. So I call dibs on the first undertime," Corey deadpanned as he cleaned up his blade. He had finished grooming Luke, and the Wyatts were now sitting together, sipping soda. The three stylists made mental notes to burn those cups as soon as the creepy trio had left. Chris had taken his CD out of the sound system, shucked off his blinking jacket, and scurried off, saying something about how he was very in demand, had another gig to get to, and didn't want to witness dead bodies.

Fandango and Adam both glared at Corey. "Dude, your work ethic SUCKS. No way you're next in line."

"I can't believe I just might win by default," Summer complained to Paige.

"Wait, what do you mean  _you're_ going to win by default?"

"Well, if Dean Ambrose has killed him before the results are announced, then Fandango and I win."

"That's not how it works!" Paige sputtered indignantly.

"So Steph," Triple H was saying conversationally to his wife, "if Roman doesn't make it back out alive, what do you think of making a new investment?"

"I don't know, Hunter—can we sustain the maintenance? I mean, he really went all out with the design. His bills must be through the roof."

"We could always get The Rock to make an appearance. One of those would pay the utilities for a year."

"We'd have to ask him to grow his hair back out."

The door suddenly swung open. Fandango, Adam, and Corey began calculating how much overtime it would take to clean up the mess in the storeroom.

Three men, apparently whole, walked out, arms around each other's shoulders, laughing quietly at some private joke. Triple H huffed a sigh of disappointment as they stopped in front of him.

"Sorry about that," Roman said, grinning widely. "We're ready for the results now."

"We lost the mood after you decided to go get the nutcase," Triple H grumbled. "I need a minute to get it back." He cleared his throat. "Roman and Fandango, please bring your models back up here."

"Come on, Hunter, it's getting late," Stephanie complained. "We still have important business functions to attend and careers to kill."

Triple H sighed in resignation. "OK, OK. The winner of this contest by a hair, ROMAN REIGNS!" he boomed.

Paige and Seth jumped up and down, both looking extremely smug. Dean threw his arms around Roman's neck, holding him tightly and beaming like a small sun. Summer sank down onto the nearest couch, looking crushed, and Fandango hung his head. He felt more disappointed than he had expected to be, considering how he had been expecting to lose anyway. Corey scowled as Luke fanned himself with his winnings.

Roman disentangled himself from Dean's limbs, stood before Fandango, and extended a large hand. "Well-played. Now that's what I wanna see."

"Uh, you did?" Fandango squeaked.

"There's no fun in squashing you," his boss replied smoothly. "I can do that anytime. Unlike some people, I reward guys who give me a good match when it counts."

Fandango exhaled as Adam and Corey patted him on the back.

"Summer, make an appointment with Seth tomorrow if you still want to negotiate the terms of your contract," Roman added. Summer's jaw dropped in shock.

"But she lost!" Paige protested, aghast.

"She'd still look good on a poster."

"Well, our job here is done." Stephanie rose gracefully from her seat and checked her hair in the mirror one more time before beckoning to her husband. "Hunter! Let's go!"

"Yes ma'am." Triple H made to leave, but as he passed Roman, he muttered, "I'll get in touch within the week."

Roman inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. Dean scowled at Triple H and his back until the front door closed behind both.

"Still hate that guy," he hissed.

"He's useful." Roman checked his watch. "Time to close shop."

"But it's still early," Adam pointed out.

"We're running out of food," Roman replied. "And I have a special project that needs tweaking. Fandango, I'm putting you in charge. Those tables need clearing—get to it."

Fandango looked pleased with himself for a minute before the rest of Roman's missive sunk in.

"Wait, what? I have to clean up?"

"You lost." Roman smirked. "And make sure it's all spotless by the time I come back."

"I told you, Ro, you don't need to close up early for me—ow!" Seth winced as Roman leaned his weight on a foot that was suddenly on top of Seth's.

Bray, who had risen to conduct his waiting room choir again following Chris's quick departure, looked put out. He picked up his hat. "Time to go home, boys. We'll be back. For anyone who can make it, choir practice on Saturdays at 6, the swamp."

Erick waved to Adam to get his attention and put his right hand to his ear in a motion of calling. Adam grinned and waved back. "As long as you've got phone lines over there!"

Luke sighed as he ran a hand over his trimmed beard. "Oh man, now I have to give this suit back."

"You haven't got use for a suit in the swamp, Harper," Bray reminded him.

"Can I at least get a new shirt for my new hair?"

"Fine, we'll go shopping after this. Wasteful disciples."

Luke fistpumped subtly as they went out the door.

As soon as the last guest and the caterers had left the salon, Roman, Seth, and Dean followed. Fandango, Adam, and Corey stared at the messy tables.

Corey rubbed his hands together. "OK, here's how this works. You two clean, and I'm going to the kitchen."

"WHAT?" Fandango and Adam glowered at their colleague.

"Because boys, I'm going to make cupcakes to celebrate."

Adam sucked in his breath while Fandango's eyes widened. "Your legendary cupcakes?"

"The very same."

"You got yourself a deal!"

* * *

A couple of hours later, the three of them were sprawled across the couches, blissfully chowing down on salted caramel, red velvet, and pumpkin spice cupcakes.

"Too bad boss man is missing this," Fandango quipped as he started on his fourth.

"This is so good!" Adam added.

"They'll be fine, I left them a cupcake each." Corey mumbled around a mouthful. "They can just fight over who gets which flavor."


	11. Chapter 11

_"From water and stone, to pomegranate and rose, to leopard and nightingale, creation ascends in beauty." -Stasi Eldredge, Captivating_

* * *

Roman pulled the car into the parking lot of the now-darkened salon. It looked like the boys had followed his instructions to a tee. There wasn't even a hint of confetti on the steps.

"Let's go," he said as he turned the engine off.

Dean turned around and leaned over the back of the passenger seat. "Yeah, just hang on a sec." Slowly and stealthily, he reached out a long arm toward Seth, who was fast asleep in the backseat.

"What are you doing?" Roman asked.

"Wanna see if I can reach his phone from here…"

Roman rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Just borrow mine."

"But I need his phone."

"I know all his passwords—I can log in anywhere. What do you want to do?"

Dean turned back around and dug around in his backpack until he came up with a can of neon green paint.

"No!" Roman nearly screeched. "I don't want my reputation ruined! Do you have any idea how damaging that'll be to his hair?"

"But you wouldn't let me tape him up in a box either!"

"You know, Dean, you really need to get over this tendency of yours to hold grudges. It's not very attractive."

"Like the fangirls care. And he stomped me again."

"I made him do it."

"Yeah, and I'll get you soon. Come on, Ro. Can I at least get him in the face?"

"Dean, I have no idea where you got that paint, but I bet it's toxic. Can't you just draw a mustache on him or something?"

"That's what normal people do."

"What?" Seth's sleepy voice sounded from the back. "Are we there yet?"

Dean quickly tossed the can of paint to Roman's side of the car. "Mornin', sunshine. We just got here."

Roman rolled his eyes as he stuck the can in the cup holder in the driver's side door. "Ready, Seth?"

"Just a sec…where's my jacket…oh here. Yeah, let's go." Seth opened his door, clearly still bleary-eyed and yawning, his suit jacket slung over his arm. Once a few lungfuls of air had cleared his brain a little, he shook out his jacket to slip it on before a detail on the back of it caught his eye.

"MY JACKET!"

Roman's eyes immediately went to Dean, but his best friend had already hopped out of the vehicle, mouth open in apparent shock as he took in the words "SUCK IT" spray-painted on the fabric.

Seth glared at him. "Dean! You jerk! Do you know how much this jacket cost?"

Dean widened his blue eyes at him. "Me? I didn't do anything." He spread his arms out. "See? No paint on me. And you know how messy I am."

Seth narrowed his eyes and brushed past Dean to complain to Roman. Roman's breath caught when he remembered what was hanging out in the cup holder. Suddenly, Dean's random reaction to Seth waking up wasn't random in the slightest.

He was gonna kill Dean.

"Ro, look what—" His other best friend broke off mid-sentence when he looked down and spotted the can of green paint. "RO?"

Roman closed his eyes. "It's not mine," he protested weakly. As Seth started railing and he actually had to open his eyes again, he could see Dean in his peripheral vision, lips curling into a smirk as he mouthed, "Gotcha."

* * *

It took at least half an hour of protests and eventual reassurances that he would replace the jacket before Roman finally got Seth to calm down from a tantrum in which Seth had thrown said jacket at least three times, threatened to introduce Roman's daughter to heavy metal, kicked Roman's tires, and screeched wordlessly at a high pitch. Well, at least it felt that way to Roman—Seth hadn't exactly given him an opening to look at his watch. The whole time, that little sneak that called himself Dean Ambrose was rubbing Seth's back, agreeing wholeheartedly with Seth on what a terrible person Roman was while looking smug and triumphant. Now Roman had to walk alone in front of the two of them to unlock the door because Seth was refusing to speak to him.

And he thought he'd graduated from high school.

They re-entered the salon, flicking the lights and the air-conditioning on. Seth made a beeline for Roman's best chair, and Roman headed to the storeroom to prepare the products for Seth's treatment. When he came out, Dean was slumped in the chair next to Seth's, holding a Ziploc bag. Or trying to, at any rate, because Seth had a grip on the other end of the bag and was tugging hard. His chair squeaked again, and Roman tried to ignore the tightening of his chest.

"Graves left us cupcakes," Dean announced. "I—SAID—GIVE—ME—THE—PUMPKIN!"

"Stop being unfair, Dean! I wanna try that one too!"

"Tough cupcakes—he made only one. Why can't you take the salted caramel like you always do?"

"Because! I'm a dynamic person!" Seth made another valiant grab, and the bag opened a little. The smell of still-fairly-fresh Corey Graves cupcakes wafted through the air, and Roman's nose twitched. He silently cursed himself for employing a stylist who was also famous for his baking skill. Corey would be the death of his waistline.

Dean growled, vigor renewed by the cupcake scent. "Mine!"

Clearly, neither of them had noticed that he was back. Quietly, he deposited his armful of hair products on a nearby table and crept to behind them. Before either of them could blink, he plucked the bag out of both their hands. "I win."

Dean and Seth both looked at him in shock as he opened the bag all the way, savoring the mixed aromas of pumpkin spice, salted caramel, and ooh, was that red velvet?

"You can't do that, Ro!" Dean yelled as he jumped off the chair and started toward him.

"Yeah!" Seth agreed, though he didn't move from his chair.

Roman grabbed the nearest bottle of hair spray (naturally made from white sugar and lavender-scented) and pointed it at the opening of the bag. "Don't come any closer, Dean."

Seth made a sound that may have been laughter or choking—it was hard to tell which. Dean froze, his eyes widening.

"Yeah. You both know what this means."

Dean held his hands up. "Don't do it, Ro."

"Here's the deal, Dean," Roman continued smoothly. "You're going to get back in that chair, and you're going to let me fix your hair all nice. Or the cupcakes get it."

"Damn you, Roman!"

"Me, or the cupcakes?" Roman edged the spray nozzle a little closer to the bag.

"Dean, you better do what he says," Seth piped up. "He'll do it. And I want my cupcake. I have to get back on my diet tomorrow."

"It's all your fault, Seth!"

"Nah,  _Taken_  would've taught me the same thing. He helped, though."

Dean looked longingly at the cupcakes, then glared back at the chair. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." Roman grinned.

Snarling, Dean turned and stomped back to the chair, dropping into it like a sulking child. Roman waited a second before relaxing his grip on the hair spray, watching Dean carefully to make sure he wouldn't suddenly charge.

He put the bottle down and fished the pumpkin cupcake out, going over to Dean and waving it over his nose. Dean glared at him, arms crossed over his chest and hunched. But his nose gave him away as it twitched, and one hand slid up and snatched it out of Roman's.

Seth pouted. "Can I have the red velvet, Ro?" He was wearing his kicked-puppy expression again, so Roman caved. "You're gonna share, though, right? You know that's my flavor."

Seth looked at his jacket, slung over the back of the chair. "Maybe."

Roman sighed. Oh well, salted caramel wasn't so bad anyway.

* * *

Some time later, he was gazing longingly at his own cupcake as he applied the last few handfuls of coconut-milk treatment on Seth's head. Dammit, he was hungry and these two were not helping, munching away blissfully as they were. But he had decided he couldn't eat…at least not until he had fulfilled his mission for the day.

Seth had his phone in his free hand, presumably tweeting about how delicious the cupcake was. "My head feels heavy," he complained as Roman went to put the now-empty tub of treatment away.

"Get used to it, pretty boy. You're gonna stay that way for a while."

After washing his hands thoroughly, Roman went to card his fingers through Dean's hair. Dean scowled even as he nibbled at his cupcake, clenched tightly with both hands.

"Aloe vera…lavender…probably add some coconut… gugo bark and tea tree…" Roman mused to himself. He patted himself on the back mentally for being prepared—he'd had the right ingredients sourced in time. His boy needed WORK. So much so that he was kind of considering a hair transplant. Roman snorted when his mind immediately conjured up an image of Dean with his own long hair. Now that would really make him part of the family. If only Dean's natural strawberry-blond hair wasn't such a pretty color…

He stepped away to begin assembling Dean's treatment, but then Dean nudged his arm and held the pumpkin cupcake up in the air. Happily, Roman leaned over and took a bite, sighing as the flavors exploded on his tastebuds. "That's amazing, Dean."

An indignant squeak sounded from the other chair, and he couldn't help smirking as he went to the storeroom.

"Ro!" Seth demanded as Roman came out a few minutes later, holding a bowl of clear stuff. "Come here."

"What?"

Seth tore a chunk off his own cupcake and held it out. "I'm sharing."

Grinning, Roman let Seth put the bit of red velvet in his mouth.

"How long do I sit like this?" Seth asked.

"It hasn't even been thirty minutes."

Seth twitched, and Roman rolled his eyes. "I told you to lay off the bleach and use my conditioner once in a while, but would you listen? Noooo. Now you're paying for it."

"But I'm running out of things to tweet."

"Send a picture of the cupcake to Finn Balor," Dean suggested grumpily. "That should keep you down for like an hour."

Seth's eyes gleamed, and he began typing furiously on his phone.

"Good boy." Roman patted Dean's head. "Now it's your turn to sit still."

* * *

"I look stupid," Dean grumbled once Roman was done slathering his fruity, flowery concoction thing over his head. He swore some of it had gotten into his ear. Though he supposed he was lucky the glop was clear and not white like Seth's, so he looked slightly less stupid.

"It's going to do wonders for you, Dean," Roman mumbled around a mouthful of salted caramel cupcake Seth had fed him. He was at the nearby sink now, straining some kind of tree bark for what he called a "rinse". Seth snickered before his phone beeped, evidently with another snarky response from Finn because Seth glowered. "He sent me a picture of chili cheese fries! That Gaelic goon!"

"Tell him you'll work it off but you bet he can't," Roman quipped as he set aside the rinse, washed up, and got a bottle of champagne and three glasses out. "Now put that down for a sec—it's time for a toast."

He pulled up a chair between his two brothers and poured them all glasses of the celebratory drink as they put down their cupcakes. "To finally getting to fix both your heads. It was KILLING me."

"To lying to me all day to do it," Dean snipped.

"It was fun," Seth mused. "Ro and I should do that some more."

"Shut up."

"OK, OK, I'll be serious. To helping Ro fulfill his dream."

As their glasses clinked, Roman chuckled. Call him a sap, but after all these years, he still thought it was incredible that the three of them had gotten together. And were still here together as he started his new life's work.

"Last one," he blurted out. "To magic—on hair and otherwise." He stuck his free fist out.

And they got it, of course they did. Dean stuck a crumb-covered fist next to his, blue eyes alight. On Roman's right, Seth vainly tried to brush the red bits off his own hand before giving up and aligning his fist with theirs.

"Happy anniversary, guys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gugo bark, alow vera, coconut, and tea tree (or even just black tea) actually do work to prevent hair fall. Tried and tested on my own hair, which is super fine too.
> 
> For now, I'm gonna consider this story complete-if I do add stuff, it'll be more of one-shots set in this universe and not quite a continuation. The playlist for the entire fic is also up on my Tumblr at blue3ski.tumblr.com.
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and for commenting and bookmarking!


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